


Stay

by Poetic_Disaster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Confessions, First Time, Grinding, M/M, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 09:00:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5328392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poetic_Disaster/pseuds/Poetic_Disaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He couldn't believe Sam had left, just grabbed his bag and slammed the door behind him at their fathers bark to "if you walk out that door, don't ever come back." And Dean felt the weight of those words and the heaviness of Sam's departure settle over him, suffocating the life right out of him. What the hell was he gonna do? What could he do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> What can i say?..... I'm a sucker for happy endings. If anyone deserves one, its the boys.

It had been three hours since Sam had left, John following immediately a few minutes later, leaving Dean alone in this run down motel room. Dean sat on one of the unmade beds, Sam's bed, and threw himself onto the mattress that still smelled like his baby brother. His fists curled into the blanket. He wanted to scream, but bit back the emptiness bubbling up inside him. He couldn't believe Sam had left, just grabbed his bag and slammed the door behind him at their father's bark to "If you walk out that door, don't ever come back." And Dean had felt the weight of those words and the heaviness of Sam's departure settle over him, suffocating the life right out of him. What the hell was he gonna do? What could he do?

Sam's admission about wanting to leave had come as a surprise. Granted, Dean knew how his brother felt about hunting, how he had always wanted a normal life, but Dean never thought for one second that he would ever actually leave him. That was his first mistake. He's acutely aware that his feelings for Sam ran so much deeper than how he should feel about his brother; but it didn't feel wrong. Like it had been there for so long, it slowly chased the feelings of guilt away, leaving only a burning need to have his brother close.

Loving Sam had been such an integrated part of who he was that he honestly didn't feel like himself when he wasn't with him. His brother's absence had passed through him like thread through a needle, leaving every ache inside Dean now stitched with Sam's color. He grabbed the half bottle of whiskey from the side table his father had left behind in his haste and threw it back. Gulping down mouthfuls, grateful for anything to wash the pain away. The warmth felt good spreading throughout his body, warming his chest and throat, even if it did nothing to fill the hollowness inside. He laid there in the quiet of the motel room like a buoy in the water, allowing the alcohol buzz in his brain to pull him wherever it pleased. Drunk on bourbon and heartache he closed his eyes and gave in, feeling himself being pulled further out to sea.

When he awoke several hours later, the hotel room was enclosed in darkness. The room was quiet and cold, but Dean threw off the blanket and turned on the dim bedside lamp immediately casting the room in soft shadows. He's almost certain his heart registered his presence before his eyes did, but his breath hitched and the world stilled for just a moment as he stared at the silhouette of his brother sitting on the floor, his bag thrown to the side, back against the dirty motel door, head hung low between his bent knees

"Sammy?" he whispered, his voice sounding far more small and broken than he had wished.  
His brother looked up and met his stare. Sam's eyes were puffy and red and Dean knew he had been crying.

"Is that really you?" he asked, hoping like hell this wasn't some sick, twisted game his brain was playing on him.

Sam pushed up off the floor and took a tentative step towards Dean, hesitation written heavy on his face.

"I couldn't bare to leave without saying goodbye to you Dean," Sam said, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his baggy jeans.

Dean had been so happy to see Sam, but suddenly he was overcome with anger at his brother's words. His fists balled at his side, his fingernails leaving half moon indentations in the rough skin of his palms.

"If you came back here just to turn around and leave again, then you should have just stayed gone."  
Dean's words hurt, but he supposed he deserved it. Had known all along that Dean would hate him for this. He didn't know what to say to make this better, to fix the riff his decision had forced between them, and still, he knew he couldn't just leave things the way they were.

"Dean please!" Sam begged. "Please don't hate me for this. I'm trying to do the right thing here."  
"The right thing?" Dean spit Sam's words back at him. "The right thing, Sammy? You call walking out on your family the right thing?"

"Dean, it's not like that," Sam tried to defend. "It's not like I'm leaving for forever." But the excuse sounded weak even to his own ears.

"How could you leave at all Sam?" Dean yelled, so much pain in his voice. "How could you just leave me?" An okay, that last part Dean hadn't meant to say but it rang true regardless and Dean was too pissed to really care how Sam interpreted it. Sam sighed and closed his eyes before turning them back on Dean, edging a few more inches closer. His hands ached with the need to reach out and touch Dean, a simple gesture to say I'm here, you're here and everything's okay. But everything wasn't okay and Sam knew it was all his fault. And so, even though his hands burned from the need for physical contact, he kept them firmly buried in his jeans.

"It's supposed to be me and you against the world," Dean said, defeated.

"Dean, it is," Sam countered, and closed the last possible distance between them.

"Is it Sam?" Dean asked, his voice full of hurt. "Cause from where I'm standing it looks an awful lot like you could care less. Like you can't wait to get the hell out of here and leave your pathetic loser of a brother behind."

"Don't say that Dean! You're not a loser!" he yells. "That's not what this is."

"Yeah?" Dean questions," then what is this Sam? What are you running from?  
You're gonna have to explain it then cause I just don't understand."

"I don't know if I can," Sam admits, and wonders how he could ever explain what Dean means to him. He knows Dean's upset, but he would hate him if he ever told him the truth; the full admission of his guilt.

"Yeah, well then I guess this whole thing is pointless. Just leave Sam." Dean sighs, the last of the anger leaving his body replaced by a deeper level of heartache. In just a moment his brother would walk out that door for a second time tonight; and Dean closed his eyes refusing to watch it again.

"Dean," Sam's voice called out, filling the silence of the room but Dean didn't answer his brother's plea, just sat there motionless, his back leaned against the wall for support. When he did finally open his eyes Sam was staring at him, a look so hopeless and lost in his hazel eyes.  
"What do you want from me Sam?" Dean questioned. "You want me to make this easy on you? Fine, goodbye Sam," Dean said flatly, his voice void of all emotion. " I hope you have a great life at Stanford. That you find whatever it is you're looking for."

"What makes you think this is easy?" Sam asked. "You have no idea how hard it is… walking away from this, from you. "

Dean laughs. Actually fucking laughs and now its Sam's turn to be pissed.  
"You think this is funny Dean?" he yells. "You're a heartless son of a bitch. You know that?" he says between clenched teeth, and he hadn't even realized his feet had moved, seemingly of their own violation, and his fists were now clenched tight in his brother's shirt as he pushes his solid weight into the thin motel room wall.

Their bodies are pressed into each other, their hot breath washing across the others face, and the tension between them buzzes in the space around them. Dean's eyes shoot to the lips dangerously and temptingly close to his, can't pull away, and whispers Sam's name so quietly he's not even sure he's said it out loud at all. The next few seconds pass by slowly, feeling more like hours, as they both stay motionless, their bodies pressed so close together and it feels like someone has set every nerve ending in Dean's body on fire when he finally gives in and crashes his lips against his baby brother. He's weak, he knows that, but between the emotionally exhausting events of the day and the last traces of alcohol still swimming in his veins, he gives in and allows himself this moment. Sam's lips are still beneath his, but he doesn't pull away and so Dean continues to take; take anything and everything he can get until his brother recovers from the shock and pushes him away. That's not what happens though and when Sam's lips finally part and allow Dean in he feels like he's drowning.… drowning in the maddening, all encompassing perfection that is his beautiful baby brother. They pull apart briefly, studying each other in the dimly lit, run down motel room. Sam's heart is hammering behind his chest and he struggles to regain some kind of control over his body.

"Dean," he breathes, "I left because I know I shouldn't want you like this. Shouldn't crave you this way but I do," he confesses and drops his forehead to rest against Dean's shoulder. Warm hands make their way through his hair coming to rest at the back of his skull, and Dean tilts his brother's head back and brushes his lips across Sam's once more, soft and sweet.  
"I want this too Sam," Dean admits, "I've wanted this for a long time."  
"How long?" Sam questions.  
"Does it matter?” Dean asks, but he can clearly see it does.  
"Since you were thirteen," Dean says, unable to meet his brother's eyes, unsure of what he'll find there. "I've always loved you Sam, but that's how old you were when I realized I wanted more. More than what society deems appropriate for one brother to feel for the other. Do you hate me?” Dean asks, still unsure of how his brother will accept the admission.  
" I could never hate you," Sam replied, as he stared into the deep green of his brother's eyes. "I love you," he whispers, afraid to say the words too loud.

Their lips find each other again and Dean runs his fingers up the hard planes of Sam's muscular stomach, pushing Sam's shirt up in the process. Sam takes the hint and pulls it off his back and throws it across the room, not caring where it lands and Dean follows his lead. They strip out of their jeans and boxers, refusing to take their eyes off each other until all that's left between them is miles of skin, skin that yearns to be mapped out and claimed by the hands of the other.  
"I was eleven," Sam whispered quietly, "when I first fantasized about you. It was the night of your fifteenth birthday," Sam recalled. " Dad was gone and you talked uncle Bobby into getting you a case of beer. We stayed up late and watched movies all night, you remember?"  
"Yeah, Sammy. I remember." And he did. Dean remembered all the times he spent with Sam. Cherished every second he got to spend with his little brother.  
"That night," Sam continued, "you let me sleep in the bed with you, even though dad said we were too old for it anymore and you rubbed my back till I feel asleep… I felt the phantom touch of your fingers for weeks. Been dying to feel them again ever since."

Dean swallowed against the knot that had formed in his too dry throat and leaned in close. "If you wanted me to touch you baby brother, all you had to do was ask," he hummed, his hand coming to rest against Sam's back, running calloused fingers slowly up his brother's skin. A moan escaped Sam's lips, the sound fueling something hungry inside Dean and he crashed their lips together and pulled his brother down to the empty bed, reveling in the perfect way their bodies slotted together.  
"Touch me," Sam moaned, his desperation and need evident in his shaky voice.  
Dean did, his fingers dipping and scouring every inch of skin laid out beneath him, his mouth following not far behind. Now that Dean had him like this, he didn't think he'd ever be able to stop.

"Stay with me Sammy," he begged, knowing he'd be lost if he left again.

"I'm here Dean. I'm not going anywhere," he replied,and Dean breathed a sigh of relief.

Sam arches his hips and presses up into Dean, the thickness of his dick pressing hard into the muscles of Dean's stomach and he moans into Sam's ear and pushes his cock up against Sam's, their hard lengths brushing against each other.

"Feels so good Sammy," Dean breathes.

"Yeah," his brother agrees, and throws his head back lost in the sweet rhythm they quickly build. Within minutes, their rocking hard and fast against each other, dicks rubbing together, smearing their shared precome between them and up their stomachs.

"Oh, God Dean I'm close. I'm gonna…” Sam groaned loudly, as his orgasm tore though his system with an immense surge of electricity, his come painting his brother's stomach in strips of glistening, pearly white.

Dean's whole body is a live wire, his senses overloaded and he comes blindingly fast with no warning, just from the feeling of Sam's come against his dick, and with his brother's name across his lips.  
Spent and breathless they both lay there unmoving, tangled in each others embrace.

" I'm never gonna be able to let you go Sammy," Dean said, the truth in his words resolute.  
"I don't want you to," Sam answers back and Dean smiles, places a soft kiss to his brother's lips and closes his eyes. For the first time, in what feels like the better half of their life, they both fall asleep with no uncertainty of what the future holds; only the quiet realization that as long as they were together it didn't matter. That together, they were home... and nobody could take that from them.

 

The end.


End file.
